


A fever dream before the void

by tismabel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Death, Dreams, F/M, Gen or Het, Hallucinations, Klepto-Pietro, Sibling Incest, Time Manipulation, Twincest, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:40:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tismabel/pseuds/tismabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the things that always surprises Pietro about stretching out the fabric of time is how quickly things can go pear shaped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A fever dream before the void

Pietro wakes in the dark room with a vicious headache and parched mouth. He stands up and stumbles to the bathroom to relieve himself and then makes his way back to the bedroom, fumbling around in the dark for the water bottle from the minibar fridge. Gulping down at least half of it he attempts to find his bearings and recall what he'd been doing the night before to cause his pounding head.

He looks up to see Wanda propped on the windowsill staring blankly at the sparse traffic going by on the street below. Her long fingers are loose around a glass that he guesses is vodka. The glass is at such a precarious angle that he quickly steps over and takes it from her. One swallow confirms the contents but his stomach doesn't feel up to more than a taste so he places the glass down on the table.

“Do we have any chips?” He asks her, “Or chocolate?” he adds, hopeful. He turns around to rifle through the small cabinet next to the minibar and asks over his shoulder “Why are you still awake?”

“I had a bad dream.”

This was nothing new. Wanda would often flail awake from fitful sleep. Which was better than the times she didn't wake, as if she was trapped in some prison in her mind. All Pietro can do on those occasions is frantically shake her shoulders as she convulses, her face contorted and sweat darkening her hair. She never tells him what she sees in these dreams but he doesn't really need to know, the haunted look in her eyes tells him. He shakes himself from the memory and flops down on the bed. It smells of stale cigarettes.

“What did you let me get up to last night?” He groans. “I can't remember anything.” He scratches the back of his neck and tries to remember what city they are in. It's so late, or early, and his head is a fog. He can't think about the bigger picture right now. He feels like flotsam caught in some global currents of power and it's too much so he burrows into the bedspread. Soon the world fades out again and he drifts.

 

*

 

They are huddled alone together in a back of a van and her body is pressing into into his side. The vehicle rushes along over rough road and his head knocks suddenly against the roof, a curse whistling through his teeth.

“Language.” she scolds and he thinks its a strange thing for her to say.

He feels thick headed and can't recall where they are going. It must be somewhere north because he can feel the cold biting into his ears and sees Wanda's breath in the air. Her nose is red and she has a miserable set to her face. She always hates the cold.

“You should have bought a warmer coat. You never think it'll be this cold and it always is.” His tone is plaintive as he stretches an arm around her shoulders. He only has a thin poly-fibre jacket on himself, but he never feels the cold.

At this very moment the worst thing about all this is that they don't have a home to go to. Time can move more slowly for him. It makes him weary and he longs for safe place they can rest. Their ideal home would be the smell of baking pastry, the texture of soft warm sheets on their skin. He would never tell Wanda this, but he wishes for that more than revenge.

She wriggles closer to his side. When they get to their destination he'll shoplift a scarf and beanie for her. He's good at that. He also needs some new shoes. He always needs new shoes.

 

*

 

He must have just come out of a time shift. The pavement rushes up towards he face and there is that familiar rush of blood and disorientation. His abilities allow him to stretch time, or slow it down. He's not quite sure. He tried to explain it to Wanda once but found that it was a frustratingly elusive concept to verbalise.

Anyway, because a minute for most people can last an hour for him he has a lot of time to think. Sometimes he gets caught up in a revery and forgets where he is. Like right now as his cheek bone cracks against the asphalt. He's been taking far too many knocks to the head lately. Perhaps it's causing long term concussive symptoms because there is definitely something off about how he's feeling.

He's also famished. That's another side affect of his abilities. He looks at his surroundings. There are a number of buildings along the street and he sights one that looks like a grocer. As he makes his way over to it he notices that there's no one around. Probably all fled the town on account of the killer robots about.

That's such an non-sequential thought that he brushes it aside and goes into the shop. Unexpectedly there is a man behind the counter. Pietro will probably just browse until he finds something appetising and zip away faster than can be seen. It's such a bonus not needing to carry a wallet around.

“How did you get here?” the man barks at him. It startles Pietro.

“I...just. ” He's baffled by the question. “I'm just looking for something to eat”

“You can't stay here. This is the waiting room.” Pietro thinks the man might be off his meds. Perhaps that's why he stayed in town while all the sane people took off.

This is not something he wants to deal with right now. He grabs some yogurt and apples and moves to leave the shop but nothing happens. Normally the space around him responds and he can slip in and out of altered time/space as he chooses. This time the feeling of that shift doesn't come at his command. Instead a suffocating inertia grips him. He drops the strawberry yogurt and it bursts over the linoleum, pink splattering out.

“I told you. You're not supposed to be here!” The shopkeeper's voice clatters through his head as he closes his eyes and reality dissolves.

 

*

 

One of the things that always surprises Pietro about stretching out the fabric of time is how quickly things can go pear shaped.

 

*

 

“Well brother, we can't leave it any longer. Just like a band-aid, best it comes right out.” She would know of all people. How many times has she untaped his blistered feet, damaged from too much running.

“I don't know if I'm ready Wanda” He clutches her arm as she moves over him. He's lying on a stone floor strewn with rubble. There are colonnades above him and smoke staining the sky.

“I'll be quick my darling brother. Go to sleep.” She gentles him with a kiss and he pulls her close. If he could still slow time he would choose this moment. It's right here that he wants to be for the rest of his life, in her warm embrace. But that ability has bled out of him now.

“Never could sleep as well as I did in our old bedroom.”

“I know.” she smiles down at him. “You'll be able to rest soon though.”

She moves her hand over his chest. There is a scraping pressure as she draws his heart out inch by inch. He looks down at it's progress in horror. Her hand is a rictus over the opening wound, red energy streaming out. He moans in pain as she draws the life from him.

He sees her cradle it to her chest as time finally lurches still and everything goes dark.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was sort of going for that disturbing hallucinatory fever state where reality feels both mundane and heightened. I'm not sure I achieved that, but I hope at least some of the feels come across. I'd love you to tell me if it did (or didn't).


End file.
